


Be Careful What You Wish For

by vega_voices



Category: In Plain Sight
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-22
Updated: 2010-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:18:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>To the world, she’d never admit that a part of her did dream of some of the stereotypes of society.  Her fancy table cloths were lace edged and her best candlesticks blown glass rather than hard brass. Her secret desires had been cultivated as a little girl when she sat in the corners of whatever hovel they’d been living in, staring at her mother, all dolled up in her dance clothes and looking for all the world like the princess her classmates wanted to grow up to be. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Careful What You Wish For

_**Fic: In Plain Sight - Be Careful What You Wish For**_  
 **Title:** Be Careful What You Wish For  
 **Author:** [](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/profile)[**vegawriters**](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom:** In Plain Sight  
 **Pairing:** References to Mary/Raph; A little bit of Mary/Marshall angst  
 **Timeframe:** Third season  
 **Rating:** Probably teen.  
 **Disclaimer:** _In Plain Sight_ does not belong to me and so I do not make even a penny off of this work of fanfiction. Should the producers be looking for a new staff writer, I’m always willing. ;-)

 **Summary:** _To the world, she’d never admit that a part of her did dream of some of the stereotypes of society. Her fancy table cloths were lace edged and her best candlesticks blown glass rather than hard brass. Her secret desires had been cultivated as a little girl when she sat in the corners of whatever hovel they’d been living in, staring at her mother, all dolled up in her dance clothes and looking for all the world like the princess her classmates wanted to grow up to be._

* * *

 _Everything glows and pulses. Everything is infected with brightness, throbbing with it, and she prays for dark the way a wanderer lost in the desert prays for water._  
From: _The Hours_ (Michael Cunningham)

* * *

Craving a cigarette she hasn’t smoked since her college days, Mary flips pages in the lone bridal magazine she purchased before Raph’s dramatic exit. The page with her dream dress is dog eared, the manufacturer circled. There is one store in Albuquerque that sells it and last week, she’d found time between babysitting nervous witnesses and setting fire to the paperwork on her desk to schedule an appointment for a fitting. They still expected her to show up at nine AM tomorrow. The off-the-shoulder gown fell in straight lines down to the ground; no excessive satin or chiffon took away from the basic design or the eyelet lace that ran along the neckline and the edge of the skirt. No veil, but a blue wrap complimented the cream of the dress. The shoes have been in the back of her closet for weeks; cream colored, open-toed heels with blue stones highlighting the thin buckle.

At a young age, Mary learned that the picture perfect image of society was nothing more than a trap meant to keep her locked into a cycle perpetuated by the masses. By adulthood, she’d discovered that a love for Prada leather and handguns didn’t take away from her personal desires to wear high heeled boots or off-color mascara. The strength she exuded gave her a stronger edge and in a world dominated by men, she needed every edge she could get.

To the world, she’d never admit that a part of her did dream of some of the stereotypes of society. Her fancy table cloths were lace edged and her best candlesticks blown glass rather than hard brass. Her secret desires had been cultivated as a little girl when she sat in the corners of whatever hovel they’d been living in, staring at her mother, all dolled up in her dance clothes and looking for all the world like the princess her classmates wanted to grow up to be.

Wiping away unwanted tears, Mary sips her now-warm beer and runs her fingers over the image of the bride. She stands alone from the wedding party, her head bowed, the wildflower bouquet clutched in her hand, the wrap falling from one shoulder. Mary had wanted to recreate this photograph for the wedding album.

Jinx is wrong in her assessment of Mary’s dreams. She doesn’t want a fairytale wedding or a house full of children. Mary’s been married once before, she knows how difficult it can be and there are uncounted dangers when two people make the choice to share their lives. She knows marriage is stupid and difficult and she’d said yes to Raphael because she loves him and she’d been stupid enough to think he could read her mind and love her the way she needs to be loved.

How was he to know that her resistance to having children isn’t from a lack of desire to be a mother, but a desperate need to not have someone dependent on her for the rest of their lives. She’s raised her mother and her sister and now that she’s within spitting distance of forty, she just wants peace and quiet and time to herself. But she never told Raphael that. She’d never told him that her fears about marriage are not solely based in the history of her father running out on the family but her knowledge of how dangerous the world really is. Becoming interdependent with another person is a responsibility she isn’t sure if she’s ready to accept. The closest she’s let anyone ever get is Marshall.

In another life, she’d have been all over Marshall. She’d have used him and thrown him away and if he came back for more …

In another life, they’d have burned up the sheets and eventually he’d have walked away. Just like Raphael. Eventually he’d have tired of her temper and her devotion to her job and her fears about connecting to the world and had sought out someone who liked to take Mambo lessons and wake up in the morning with a cup of black tea and yesterday’s _New York Times_ Sudoku. He’d already thought about leaving once and she still didn’t know if he hadn’t been shot, would he have taken the job and left her with a new partner. He’d been ready to walk away. She wants to kick and scream and cry and wonder why everyone always leaves, but Mary knows she pushes people away so that in the end, she can justify being alone.

The silence is deafening.

Some unseen force demands that she reach for her phone and hit Raph’s #3 speed dial, but she stops herself. He’s right. She doesn’t know if she loves him enough to marry him and what she’s learned is that he doesn’t love her enough to make it work. She’s pushed him as far as he can go and her only consolation is that she trusts Raph to not tell anyone about her secret.

What he doesn’t know is that she wanted to marry him. She just didn’t know how.

Her finger lingers on the #2. Marshall could make it better. He’d comfort her the way she needs to be comforted but right now she can’t face him. Not after the trip to Denver. So she throws the phone onto the coffee table and wills it to ring.

Just a few weeks ago all Mary wanted was silence. All she wanted was space and time to think. She wanted Raphael to go to the gym and her mother to get a job and Brandi to spend the night at Peter’s. Just an hour of silence. It was all she wanted. An hour without her phone alerting her to some new crisis at work. She’d wanted to turn off the lights and sink into the tub and revel in the quiet for just a few hours.

Now, it didn’t matter how many different playlists she chose from her iPod or how many TV shows she flipped through, there wasn’t enough noise to fill the suffocating silence that surrounded her. With Brandi off in Jersey and her mother working late nights at the studio and Raph …wherever he was.

Acknowledging her broken heart with chocolate and wine was too cliché. But she isn’t above sitting on her couch with a beer, staring into rooms illuminated only by the lights from outside and the glow of her computer screen.

 _“I do love you.”_

 _“I know. But do you love me enough?”_

He was right. She knew that. And as she alternates between being too sad to even cry and so angry it was all she can do, Mary wants to call him and remind him that clearly, he didn’t love her enough either.

But he’d been so willing to try anything to make it work. He’d handled her abusive moods and her keeping him at arm’s length and the devotion to her work that could drag her from bed even during sex. For the first time in her life someone had been truly willing to dote on her the same way she doted on her family. She’d lapped it up and had never really stopped to think about what he was feeling or how she compartmentalized him the same way she did Brandi and Jinx.

Slowly, stiffly, she stands up and stumbles to the kitchen. Depositing her beer bottle in the recycle bin, she stares at the empty fridge before finally moving outside. Kicking off her slippers Mary sits at the edge of the pool, dangling her feet in the cool water. How often did she actually get to enjoy the pool? How often had Raphael and Brandi taken advantage of it and she’d griped at them for daring to treat themselves to something that was a part of their house?

Now she had it all to herself and all she wanted was Raphael to walk out of the house, slide down behind her, and hold her while they sat in silence. If there was anything Raph had understood about her, it was her need for silence whenever she could get it.

Now it was too quiet but even the soft sound of the water lapping against the edge of the pool was too loud.

She had what she’d craved – peace and quiet – only to discover it was the last thing she wanted.

But she didn’t know if she wanted Raphael or the dream in her mind she’d created of a life with Raphael. What she wanted was a life with someone like Marshall, someone who understood her. But, her fears of depending on anyone would keep those feelings at bay for the rest of her life.

Slowly pulling one leg from the water, Mary tucks it close to her chest and rests her chin on her knee. Her hand is naked without her ring. Her house is empty. She had everything she’d wished for and nothing she actually wanted.

Inside the house, her phone rings. Marshall’s ring. For once, she doesn’t get up. If it is important he’ll call back on the house phone and she’ll force herself to move.

Right now, she needs her silence.

 _~fin~_


End file.
